


What Was and What Could Have Been

by quietuniverse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Getting Together, Implied Smut, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Sexual Content, Shacked up at Grimmauld Place, there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietuniverse/pseuds/quietuniverse
Summary: Sirius Black had his chance. In fact—he had many chances. But, the time has long since passed, and Remus Lupin is no longer his to want. Sometimes, he thinks, he’d rather be back in Azkaban. At least there, he dared not allow his mind to stray to thoughts of what was and what could have been.





	1. The Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> I initially intended to write a reverse version of my previous fic, Dancing On My Own, and then it spiraled into this. There will be two parts, and part two is already in the works!

Sirius glances down at the contents of the glass in his hand, the firewhisky trembling like the ocean before a storm; he’s half certain that the tumbler will shatter if he grips it any harder. He exhales and he loathes himself for the way his breath shudders and shakes.

“Remus, come on! Dance with me!”

An angry fissure shoots down the side of the cup, and Sirius quickly downs the rest of the alcohol—ignoring the punishing burn—before placing the now-ruined glass on the end table beside him. In his peripheral vision, he can see his younger cousin pulling Remus up from an armchair and to the open space in the middle of the sitting room.

12 Grimmauld Place is teeming with members of the Order of the Phoenix, and tonight has been declared an evening to unwind. They’ve spent the better part of the last week arguing around the kitchen table for hours on end, and Molly has had quite enough of their bickering—thank you very much. In a very stern and motherly fashion, Molly took it upon herself to lock them all out of the kitchen when they arrived as she began to whip up dinner, forcing them to congregate elsewhere.

This is how Sirius found himself sitting in an ornate, overstuffed armchair, listening to the buzz of conversation and the scratch of the record player, desperately trying to resist the urge to look over at Tonks as she laughs loudly and tugs Remus down to whisper something in his ear. He runs a hand over his face and rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and willing it to swallow him whole. He has half a mind to make a getaway and retire early for the evening, but he knows that Molly will never let him hear the end of it if he cowers upstairs with his tail between his legs. She sees right through him; he’s fucking pathetic.

“All right there, Sirius?”

The sound of Bill Weasley’s voice pulls Sirius from his dark thoughts, and he slips an easy grin on his face as he turns to face him.

“Been worse, that’s for sure.”

The two idly chat about mindless topics as Sirius refills his glass, having offhandedly muttered _reparo_ when he realized he was going to need far more to drink to temper down his emotions for the rest of the evening. He navigates through the conversation on autopilot, only feeling slightly guilty that he’s incapable of affording Bill his complete attention.

Sirius barely realizes that the other man has up and left to oblige Fleur in a dance as the record player begins to hum an upbeat tune; he’s too busy glaring as Tonks’ lips get alarmingly close to Remus’ cheek. A possessive growl sits on the tip of his tongue, jealousy that leaves him feeling achingly guilty. Remus Lupin does not belong to him—he never has and he never will.

_They are fourteen and they are running down an empty corridor in the middle of the night. Filch is not far behind, and so they hide in an inconspicuous broom closet. They are pressed up against each other in the small space, and Sirius feels his heartbeat speed up. He puts a fraction of distance between them, and he hears Remus exhale nervously._

_They are fifteen and it’s the night of the full moon. James and Peter have detention, so Padfoot runs alone with the Wolf through the cool, dewy grass and into the inky darkness of the Forbidden Forest. He accidentally falls asleep after they tiredly slink back into the Shrieking Shack, and wakes the next morning beside Remus’ sleeping human form. He fights the urge to gently brush the hair from his forehead, and hastily exits before Madam Pomfrey arrives._

_They are sixteen and Sirius is in the hospital wing with a broken leg; he fell off his broom during a stormy Quidditch match. Remus sits in the chair beside his bed, soaked from head to toe, with a face full of worry and something else that Sirius’ hazy mind can’t quite figure out. Remus opens his mouth to speak, but Sirius is already drifting into a dreamless sleep._

_They are seventeen and in the common room, celebrating their final year at Hogwarts. They are caught up in the moment, passing drinks back and forth and leaning close to exchange drunken, incomprehensible jokes, and they almost kiss. Neither of them says anything about it the next morning._

_They are nineteen and James meets them at his and Remus' shared flat, and they head out for an evening at the bar. Sirius watches Remus kiss a bloke for the first time and he’s stunned into silence from across the room. He apparates back home without warning, and pretends he’s asleep on the couch when Remus returns to their place with the man later that night._

_They are still nineteen and Sirius is a fucking coward. James tells him as much when he’s finally had it with Sirius moping at his and Lily’s place every other night._

_They are twenty-one and everything has gone to shit and Sirius is scared and angry, because he doesn’t know who he can trust anymore._

_It is November 1st, 1981, and it is the worst day of Sirius Black’s life. His mind slips toward the pitch black brink of insanity, careening back and forth between wanting to destroy Peter and wanting to destroy himself. His last thought before the darkness swallows him whole is_ **_“What will Remus think?”_ **

Sirius resolves to spend the rest of the evening pretending not to care, until he picks up on an almost imperceptible shift in Remus’ demeanor. They may have spent more than a decade apart, but Sirius knows Remus like the back of his hand—closed off and a bit aloof to all those but the people that have earned his trust. Since she joined the reformed Order, Tonks has been persistently flitting around Remus’ closed-up walls, determined to see the man crack a smile. Which is why Sirius’ heart sinks as he notices the tension in Remus’ shoulders finally drop, a genuine smile creeping across his face. He laughs, and the raspy chuckle is music to Sirius’ ears; he fucking hates it.

People have begun to trickle out here and there, and Sirius mutters _“Fuck it”_ as he stands up to head upstairs for the evening. He’s played nice long enough, and if he sits down there any longer he’s bound to snap. He slinks up to his room, paying no mind to anyone else still mingling, and shifts into Padfoot the moment that the lock on the door clicks into place. The clamoring of his mind begins to settle, and he revels in the simplicity of the canine thought process. It’s a cheap way of avoiding his problems, but Sirius doesn’t have the patience for sleepless nights anymore after twelve years in Azkaban.

The next morning, Sirius sits at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, nursing a hangover. He hadn’t gotten wasted, but being dry for over a decade had quite an effect on his alcohol tolerance. Remus points out as much with a small smile as he walks in shortly after. Sirius doesn’t look up but he can hear Remus rummaging around in the cabinets. A few minutes later, the chair beside him scrapes across the floor as Remus pulls it out and sits down. He finally looks up to find a cup of hot tea sitting in front of him; he mutters a quiet thank you.

The two sit in somewhat companionable silence, until the sound of footsteps announces someone else entering the room. Sirius can’t wipe the shock off of his face fast enough as his gaze settles on Tonks, and the words tumble from his lips, unfiltered, “Bloody hell, Moony. Would’ve given you the key to the honeymoon suite last night if I’d have known you two were shagging **already**.”

Remus chokes on his tea as Tonks laughs loudly and replies, “Should really get your mind out of the gutter, yeah? I slept on that stuffy old couch out there, my dear cousin. Firewhisky and apparition don’t mix too well for me.”

Sirius feels the back of his neck prickle with embarrassment, and looks back down at his tea as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “Ah, right. Of course,” he says halfheartedly.

Tonks makes a show of elbowing him when she walks past, and mutters, “Bloody git.” Remus hums in amusement.

The two men find themselves alone once Tonks bids them farewell, and Sirius momentarily panics as he wonders if Remus will confront him about his childish outburst. However, the fear is short-lived, as Remus informs him that Dumbledore’s sent word that he’s needed for another covert mission. Sirius tries not to let himself visibly sag; Remus was gone for an entire month the last time that he left.

He leans against the doorway of Remus’ bedroom as the other man packs a meager suitcase for his trip. He’s trying to act casual but he can’t help the way his stomach clenches as his eyes drift over to the soft, rumpled sheets on Remus’ bed.

Remus considers Sirius for but a moment before he leaves—the space between them is cavernous and the silence is deafening.

And if Sirius sleeps in Remus’ bed while he’s gone, it’s really nobody’s business. It’s his goddamn house, after all.


	2. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius makes some questionable decisions, but things eventually fall into place.

Remus has been gone for two and a half weeks and Sirius is itchy and restless.

The Order buzzes in and out of the house as the days tick by, because it’s business as usual—for them, at least. Sirius wants to be angry that nobody else seems worried about the man’s wellbeing; he wants to grab them and shake them and ask them how they can sip tea and bicker like Remus isn’t out there risking his life. But really, he concludes, they’re all putting their lives on the line just by existing within their secret society. All except for him, the mangy, sidelined mutt on house arrest.

He catches the others staring at him sometimes, when he’s zoned out and missed the past three questions that have been directed his way during a meeting. Molly looks at him with pity, and he chews on the word and gulps it down in shame. Tonks looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out, and he has to bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. She’s done nothing wrong, but she serves as yet another reminder of his problems and the reality of what will never be.

Three weeks into his absence is when Sirius reaches his breaking point. Tonks bustles into a meeting, waving around a ruddy bit of parchment. She quickly glances over at Sirius before she announces that Remus has sent word. The letter includes a handful of instructions for various members of the Order to carry out, time sensitive matters and such. Sirius is hardly listening, though, because he’s too busy fuming over the fact that the damned owl wasn’t sent to **him**. He knows that, realistically, it would have been far too dangerous to draw any bit of attention to an escaped convict, but honestly—when have they ever played by the rules?

Sirius is on edge as everyone shuffles out of the house shortly after, and he ignores the concerned look that Molly gives him. He shakes her off and stalks upstairs with a terrible idea brewing in his wake.

The reflection staring back at him in the mirror is unfamiliar as Sirius gives himself a onceover. _Good enough_ , he thinks, as he shrugs on his leather jacket. He’s cast a glamouring charm on himself; it’s a difficult spell but he figures he might as well make some use of the rotten, pure-blood magic that’s pumping through his veins. He used to be ashamed of the power that the Black family wielded, but with age he’s taken a fond liking to the thought of Walburga rolling over in her grave at the thought of him using their magic for things she would vehemently disapprove of.  
  
The spell requires discretion, as it’s not entirely foolproof, but Sirius still feels confident enough to stroll out under the light of the moon to the seedy muggle dive bar at the edge of town. He breathes in the damp, fresh air as his boots gently scrape on the sidewalk beneath him. It’s funny, really, how he went from one prison to another. Some days, when he’s feeling particularly masochistic, he thinks he would prefer the dementors. At least **those** fuckers wanted to kiss him.

The bar reeks of stale beer and bad decisions, and Sirius makes himself at home. At least here, he doesn’t need to pretend to be something that he’s not. This place is full of anger, misery, and regret; he fits right in.

After chasing down a few drinks, his head begins to swim and he relaxes. A mildly handsome bloke with an otherwise forgettable face has come to sit beside him, and Sirius is almost embarrassed by how eagerly his body responds when the man eventually rests a hand on his thigh. He is touch-starved, and his body is aching with a painful, resounding loneliness. He will never be good enough for Remus—he never was. He doesn’t blame him, but it’s ultimately the reason why he stands up and tugs the stranger along behind him.

And that is how Sirius Black finds himself pressed up against a wall in the dingy back alley of the bar with a muggle bloke’s tongue roughly shoved down his throat. He’s so desperate to forget. The man runs his hands down Sirius’ sides, stopping at his waist to grip him tight and pull him closer. His head is spinning and he fights the urge to flee. A hand begins snake down to the juncture between his legs and Sirius has to choke back the name that almost spills from his mouth, “Re—”

He shoves the man off of him and stumbles away.

Sirius wakes up the next morning, in his own bed this time, and he feels dirty.

He’s not sure how long he lays there staring at the ceiling, his head aching and his heart sinking as he recounts his evening, but he’s eventually shaken from his stupor by the sound of the front door creaking open. Before he knows what he’s doing, he races down the steps, two at a time, until he’s standing in the entry hall gasping for breath and facing an exhausted-looking Remus. They stand there just staring at each other for a moment, awkwardly, and Sirius scrambles for words as he realizes that he’s just come to greet him at the door like a damn dog (and the irony is not lost on him).

“Ah, well then...welcome home, Moony,” Sirius says, as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

Remus takes a few steps forward, so that they’re almost toe to toe, and opens his mouth to say something—but his expression quickly morphs into a frown. He sniffs the air once, deeply, and Sirius has to fight the urge to shiver as something dark and primal glints in his eyes. They’re only a few days out from the full moon now, and the wolf is probably lazily stretching inside of Remus while it waits for its monthly turn to run, which means that Remus’ senses are... heightened.

Remus’ voice is dangerously low when he finally speaks. “You’ve left the house.”

Sirius shrugs as he attempts to appear unaffected by the other man’s reaction. “I was bored. Can’t keep a dog caged up indefinitely, you know. Some would call it cruel,” he responds, enunciating the last word and flippantly waving his hand in the air.

Remus’ eyes flash amber for just a moment, and he nearly snarls as he roughly shoves Sirius against the wall and snaps, “How could you be so goddamn careless, Sirius?”

Sirius fights to keep his voice steady as he retorts, “Why should you care?” He knows how childish it sounds, but he doesn’t waver.

Remus drops his head with a resigned sigh, leaning in close to Sirius’ neck. He inhales deeply and then tenses up, his grip on Sirius’ shoulders tightening once more. He pulls back and drops one hand, as he brings the other to cup Sirius’ chin. He stares at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re...covered in someone’s scent, I can smell him all over you.”  
  
Swatting his hand away, Sirius looks at him and says challengingly, “Don’t see why that’s any of your business, mate.”

Remus closes his eyes and nods, seemingly in agreement, but then he leans in again to whisper cooly against the outer shell of his ear, “You have always been my business, Padfoot. We’ve both just been too fucking stupid to admit it.”

And he’s kissing him.

Remus Lupin is kissing him.

It starts off tentatively, their noses brush softly and Remus captures Sirius’ top lip between his own. He pulls away and Sirius wants to sigh from the loss of contact already. Remus licks his lips and looks into the gray eyes that are staring back at him—waiting.

Sirius blinks slowly, and then presses his lips to the corner of Remus’ mouth. Before he can continue, Remus captures his lips in a bruising kiss, pressing him against the wall once more, and Sirius fists a hand in the front of the man’s jumper to steady himself as his knees begin to go weak. Remus chuckles softly against his lips as Sirius’ body responds to his like a moth to a flame, like a dried up valley after a long-awaited storm. It takes a moment, but Sirius quickly collects himself and kisses him back with fervor; he sucks and nibbles at Remus’ bottom lip until he elicits a soft, breathy moan from him.

Remus deepens the kiss as he smoothly threads a hand through his hair, allowing Sirius to explore him further with his tongue. He tastes moonlight and shadows; he tastes all the things they’ve left unsaid; he tastes home.

Breaking the kiss slightly, Remus runs his tongue along Sirius’ bottom lip in a sensual manner. Sirius grabs him by the hips and swiftly switches their positions, pinning him up against the wall. He holds his wrists up firmly against the peeling wallpaper as he kisses his way up and down Remus’ exposed neck, giving extra attention to the soft white scars hidden just beneath his collar.

A low growl escapes from Remus as he firmly slots a leg in the space between Sirius’ thighs and presses against him. He hungrily brings their mouths back together, caressing Sirius’ lips with his own. Sirius pulls back after a moment, leaning against Remus’ collarbone and breathing heavily. After catching his breath, he glances back up at Remus with an unsaid question written across his face; Remus smiles.

Sirius threads a hand with his and they stumble up the steps and into Remus’ room. He walks him in backwards, as Remus pauses to glance around the room for a moment and smirks. Pushing Sirius back down onto the bed, he crawls on top of him and whispers into his ear in a tone laced with arousal, “You’ve been in here...you’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

A thrill shoots up Sirius’ spine as he nuzzles into Remus’ neck and murmurs playfully, “Mmm. And...I sleep naked.”

Remus chokes, and Sirius grins in satisfaction. He soon loses the upper hand, through, as Remus pulls away and shifts his attention to where Sirius’ shirt has ridden up, exposing a strip of his stomach and the contour of his right hip bone. He presses a wet, hot kiss to it and Sirius shudders as he thrusts his hands into Remus’ hair.

Remus seems to deflate suddenly; he looks back up at him and quietly says, “We’ve wasted so much time, haven’t we, Pads?”

Sirius tugs Remus up to lay beside him, and rolls onto his side. “Azkaban would have been too painful, knowing that that you wanted this, too.”

Remus sighs, gently running a finger along the stubble on Sirius’ chin. “I spent more full moons than I’d like to admit trying to goad the wolf to end it, after you were gone.”

Sirius grabs his hand and holds it tightly, staring determinedly into his eyes as he says, with conviction, “Well, we have now. We will always have now.”

He leans in and kisses him; he kisses the small wet spot that has trailed from the corner of Remus’ eye, and he kisses the downturned corner of his mouth until he’s nudged it back into a smile. Remus gently brushes his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip, and then kisses him again until they’re both panting and breathless.

Remus slides down so that his face is near Sirius’ thighs, and then begins kissing his way up his clothed body. He pushes up the hem of Sirius’ shirt once more when he reaches his stomach, leaving a hot and wet trail along the waistline of his trousers. He pulls the shirt off with him as he continues, ghosting his fingers over his now-bare chest; Sirius has to suppress the elicit sound that’s on the tip of his tongue.

He swiftly avoids Sirius’ waiting lips as he reaches them, and instead kisses down his jawline and along his neck. He begins to suck on the pressure point below Sirius’ ear, and Sirius reaches up to tangle his hands in Remus’ hair as he lifts his body slightly to brush it again Remus’. Remus shudders at the contact, and drags his lips back along his cheek and finally kisses him again. Sirius quickly tugs off Remus’ shirt as well, and ducks down to plant kisses across his chest.

Remus boldly runs a hand down Sirius’ body, stopping to rest over the aching bulge in his trousers. He palms it as he claims Sirius’ neck once more, biting down and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Sirius bucks up into Remus’ hand, and then grasps Remus’ hips and roughly pulls him down closer. He’s shamelessly rutting against him at this point, and Remus is panting hard. With a growl, Remus pulls back and they scramble to shuck off the remainder of their clothing.

Their bodies are burning hot as their bare skin finally touches, and they slot against one another, slick and wet. Remus whispers in Sirius’ ear teasingly as he rubs against him, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Sirius whimpers in response, aching with need, “Please, Remus.”

Remus doesn’t hesitate.

The sheets are damp and sticky in places when they’ve finished, but Sirius can’t bring himself to care as he rests his head on Remus’ chest. He listens to the rise and fall of his breathing as Remus cards a hand through his hair. Remus kisses the top of his head, and Sirius is overcome with emotion as the heavy weight in his chest finally crumbles to dust.

At the next Order meeting, Sirius does not hesitate to shuffle over from his usual place at the head of the table to sit beside Remus. Nobody comments on it, but Molly glances at them and smiles warmly. Remus reaches for Sirius’ hand under the table, lacing their fingers together and resting them on his thigh.

Remus tethers him down and reminds him that there’s still hope to be found in the corners of the darkness that lies ahead; reminds him that this dusty, decaying house may never really be his home, but Remus always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated, I always look forward to feedback!


End file.
